Seven Days
by Alowl
Summary: Urahara Kisuke was courted in seven days. "On the first day, there were flowers - Rich red roses, wild sunflowers and poppies, springs of bluebells and forget-me-nots..." For Valentine's day. Sweet and fluffy. Yaoi, UraIchi


Disclaimer: Not mine. I had a lot of fun writing it, though. The idea of Ichigo seducing Kisuke in a long, drawn out process – basically, I took up every romantic cliché I could find and used them all here. I hope you enjoy it! Read and review, please? I'd love to know what you think!

Seven Days, Counting Up

1.

On the first day, there were flowers.

Rich red roses, interlaced with wild sunflowers and the bright curve of poppies, springs of bluebells and vibrant forget-me-nots poking from a tangled jumble of knotted stems in an explosion of every imaginable color and scent. The uncoordinated display had been parked precariously on the Shouten's front step, the bulbous glass vase nearly bursting with the accumulated flowers.

Jinta screamed when he saw it, running to Tessai and blubbering about a tentacle-monster that was going to _eat his head_; the large man swept him into a (manly!) hug, wailing about color coordination.

Ururu didn't say anything, smiling shyly as she helped Urahara place the vase in a position of honor on the front shelf.

2.

On the second day, candy.

Rich chocolates were arranged in an ornate setting, the little map in the back of the box detailing the artistic arrangement of milk chocolate and caramel delicacies. White ribbons of frosting dotted the truffles, mimicking the unornamented bow on the exterior of the box. The container was deceptively plain, distinguished only by the brand-name label, a subtle understatement further enhancing the appeal.

Stuffed beneath the display was a bag of cheap green gummy bears.

Kisuke picked a single chocolate, and let it dissolve on his tongue.

3.

The third day saw the arrival of a bundle of movies, wrapped in hastily tied-off ribbons and shoved through the Shouten's mail slot. Kisuke leafed through the discs with interest, noting unfamiliar titles such as _The Princess Bride_, _Young Frankenstein, Monty Python and the Quest for the Holy Grail, _and_ Robin Hood: Men in Tights_.

A bag of popcorn had thoughtfully been included.

An impromptu movie night was promptly declared; Kisuke closed the shouten for the remainder of the afternoon, snacking on the popcorn in front of his modified television.

He saved _The Rocky Horror Picture Show _for last.

4.

The fourth day marked the arrival of a plain, unmarked envelope; Kisuke turned it over in his hands before opening the flap and extracting the contents.

It was a ticket to a local festival, good for a full-length day; a worn stub was attached to the side, the other ticket discernable only through its absence.

Kisuke left his worn green haori at home, opting instead to dress in plain jeans and a long-sleeved shirt; he kept his hat. He went in the evening, wandering through the stalls, soaking in bright lights and laughter, freely given smiles, the sheer visceral pleasure of being alive. Once, he thought he caught a glimpse of red hair.

The shopkeeper increasingly found himself turning to the side, words bubbling to his lips as if to address an unseen companion.

When he returned to the Shouten, a stuffed toy from a carnival booth was waiting for him on the doorstep.

5.

He found a book neatly placed on his bedside table the next day.

A quick check with Tessai revealed that the alarm system hadn't been triggered; the giant was rather insulted that Urahara had questioned his expertise. Kisuke waved his employee aside with a glib apology before engaging the book in a staring contest.

An examination revealed that it was a collection of classic romantic poems; he opened it cautiously, half afraid of the contents.

A letter was tucked neatly inside the book itself, serving as a bookmark. Kisuke's eyes trailed over the poem adjacent to the envelope.

_How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…_

Kisuke didn't leave his bedroom until mid-afternoon. The letter was tucked neatly into his haori, directly above his heart.

6.

Dinner was waiting when Kisuke returned to the Shouten. (He'd spent the day in a fruitless hunt for strawberries).

A smorgasbord of foreign cuisine met his astonished eyes as he pushed the kitchen door open, platters of food neatly arranged on a pristine tablecloth (and where, exactly, had _that_ come from?). Stuffed grape leaves stood side by side with neatly arranged slices of fresh baklava, surrounded by various dishes that Kisuke didn't even know how to name. Let alone eat, for that matter.

The little-used kitchen table was set for one, his finest silverware (the ones he kept far, far away from Jinta's curious hands) gleaming beside a waiting plate. The setting was, somehow, defined by the absence that lingered as Kisuke slowly took his seat.

Kisuke was, to be perfectly honest (a habit he rarely indulged in), slightly intimidated by the sheer variety of perfectly prepared food. At least until he discovered the take-out boxes stuffed in the trash.

A small bowl of strawberries (the only non-Eurasian food present) was set carefully to the side. Further investigation revealed a small pot of melted chocolate simmering on the stove.

7.

Ichigo was waiting for him.

Omake

5.

He found a box on his bedside table the following morning.

Leaving aside the sheer impossibility of anyone entering Kisuke's room without waking him, a quick check with Tessai revealed that the Shouten's overly elaborate alarm system hadn't been triggered. The giant was rather insulted that Urahara had questioned his expertise; Kisuke waved his employee aside, a glib apology on his lips before engaging the box in a staring contest.

When he finally opened the lid (he'd won the staring contest. A mere box was no match for Urahara Kisuke!) he discovered a slightly battered ipod.

Kisuke scrolled through the menu, noting unfamiliar albums intermixed with his favorite bands (and how, exactly, had his nocturnal visitor learned _that_ information?)

He popped the earbuds on and pressed _Random Select,_ cocking his head as an unfamiliar musical score began to play.

_The Internet is really really great… (1)_

It would have taken surgery to remove the grin plastered to his face for the remainder of the day.

(1). 'The Internet Is For Porn', from Avenue Q.


End file.
